Felines and Ferals
by sofasoapsopia
Summary: Not every teenage mutant was saved and taken to that special school. And when they were they didn't necessarily want the help. Spans across the 1st through to the 3rd movie and won't interfere with canon that much.


I don't even know. Sorry? Again should be writing other things but I'm annoyed with them because they are not FLOWING so I've put them down for a bit.

It's not edited, so there will be mistakes; grammar, punctuation, and other stuff. etc . Not that I could care right now.

I DO NOT OWN X-MEN

CHAPTER 1

* * *

It's cold, like, really cold. But it's almost winter so there's nothing she can do.

At least she has this trench coat, but it's not very warm, but it is big, very big so she can use it to cover most of herself from the crispy wind, because the old and slightly torn woolly jumper doesn't do much, neither does the tattered short skirt and stockings she wears. But it's all she has, it's basically the only thing she was wearing when she was kicked out of her house. She stole the trench coat though, because never would she have imagined owning one.

It's funny though because she's decided that she actually likes it, it matches her dark boots. She stole those as well, though it was something that she would have bought anyways.

She's freezing, and walking it off doesn't work and weren't crowds supposed to be warm and radiate body heat or whatever? She doesn't know, she hasn't been in school for years. New York - the city - is absolutely cold, no matter how many people she is surrounded by.

But at least _they_ won't find her. She looks like any teenager with some funky style and looks maybe just a tiny bit lost. That's okay, she just says that everyone is a bit too tall when some thinks she is lost. And it's true, she isn't the tallest person around, and everyone on the streets are a lot taller than she, so they usually just go on with their way leaving Wren to sigh, thankful that no ones thinks too much.

So she just bears with it, walking down alleys looks for a place to stay for the night but all the spots are taken. Cardboard boxes are already filled, non-smelly dumpster's won't open up for her, and any covered shelter in front of buildings or stores have spikes placed. So she changes her mind, she doesn't need to sleep. She can go for days without sleep but that wasn't the problem the cold was.

It won't hurt her, she knows that. Her body creates heat enough for her to probably survive living in Alaska or something in only this trench coat for cover, but it doesn't mean she doesn't feel it. Wren bears it though, and walks and walks and walks. She doesn't know where she's going and she doesn't understand what she's looking for but she keeps moving.

Is she still in New York? The state this time? She doesn't know, it's been days maybe since she left the city. It get's colder and colder everyday, but she still hasn't been found so she's happy.

But when was the last time she has eaten? She can't remember, but her stomach doesn't really hurt but neither does she feel hungry. It's been a while though, she knows. It makes her cry, she could have spent her last bits of money on some food 'cause she recognised that her body was feeling weak, but she didn't. She spent it on some light brown-skin coloured nail polish and nail file. She needed it though! She really did, her nails just kept on growing, and by all standards she knew that wasn't normal and people would probably look at them with disgust so she covered them.

At least they look decent know, in that funny almond-y and triangle sharp shape that at lot of teenage girls and some older women were wearing. Much better than the overgrown sharp nails that would not stop growing. And there was a lot of polish in that bottle, so she saved it, wrapping in some cloth and hid in one of her pockets. The filer she kept in her hand all the time though. It was rough and comforting and she liked that, besides, shaping her nails kept her nerves down, surprisingly enough.

Not for long, but it kept her mind off of things. Like food.

Which brings us to the problem at hand. Wren eyes the cow that's just over the fence. She's walked so much that she's sure she's in another state, it's been weeks and maybe a few months since she left New York so she must be.

Does she really want to eat it? It's wrong, it's very wrong because it belongs to someone, not to mention that she's actually debating whether she should eat a raw cow, but she's getting desperate. The cow moos innocently and she turns around.

She's desperate, but not _that_ desperate. But her body stopped moving and it's shaking because _meat_. It's right there, just behind her and no! Wren shakes those thoughts away because it's wrong. So she forces her body to move, move that blood around her body and keep her warm. She also ignores the the quiet growling in her chest that is longing for the meat and maybe blood because she is better than that. She's not an animal, although she is.

It's confusing and annoying but it doesn't scare her. She has more control than that so of course it doesn't scare her, not this fourteen - wait, fifteen maybe? or sixteen? - no she'll go with fifteen year old girl.

.

.

Okay so maybe it does scare her, but that's only because she can smell someone, someone _like her_. It's not that she can smell someone like her, but it's her reaction to that smell. Wren freezes, then she's moving before she freezes once again.

She doesn't want to follow that smell, but has trouble controlling herself. What if it's a trap or something? She can smell different scents, scents that belong to _those people_ , but then the scent that reminds her of herself is hinting panic and fear.

She doesn't want to jump into anything, she hates acting on impulse and stupid but her bodies already running, running early in the morning in this little town that's she's just ventured upon and she can't stop.

Around a few corners, down some alleyways and until she catches sight of a nearly empty parking lot. Nearly empty, because there is a group of _those_ soldiers working for _those_ people surrounding someone. Oh dear god they've caught someone like her and it makes her knees shake. (Well, not really caught but surrounded though that little detail doesn't matter.)

Her hands clench, fisting over and over again and she catches sight of her very sharp nails. Wren wallows, does she really want to do this? Help someone else? But what if she get's caught! What if they take her and do stuff to her! No, no, no, no, no! She hopes on her feet because she can't decide and she needs to be quick. Her mind may not have made up it's mind but her body - or more likely, the animal has - and she moves, moves fast towards the growling thing surrounded by soldiers trying to get close.

Quick, she's very quick, and while her arms aren't strong and probably wouldn't make a dent in anything, her teeth, her _fangs are_ so she bites. Bites and swings her nails - no, not nails, _claws_ around, scratching and tearing all the enemies, the predators away and apart. Not that it's working too well because these soldiers have guns, but while bullets hurt, they don't leave to much damage to her body and they don't last either.

So she bites and claws and tears with no semblance of a strategy or tactic but it's working because finally the other feral as gotten off it's ass and is helping her. All Wren smells is blood, and she thinks that she doesn't mind that smell. Seven soldiers turn to five, then to three and finally there is one left, and Wren stands surrounded by bodies and she doesn't care at all.

She's actually kinda happy, one because she helped someone, someone like her and she wasn't a coward for once, but also because that animal in her chest was purring. She didn't exactly reject the thing, because as much as she could deny that it wasn't apart of her, it was so, she was happy, because she had done something as it. Was this the first step to accepting herself?

Heh, maybe, but she was a little preoccupied with tearing the last soldier to useless limbs. Through all of this, she may have slightly forgotten the other feral, but only because the smell of blood was so strong that his scent was covered for a few seconds, so when he, because it was he - no girls voice was that deep - spoke, she jumped.

And back was the coward.

She shook and blinks up at him, or down at him, he's just a little shorter than she which is surprising. "Wha- what was tha'?" she says, her voice croaky from the who-knows-how-many-months of lack of use.

He coughs, voice cracking slightly somewhere in there. "Thanks, I said thank you." and then he nods and shuffles like he doesn't know what to do next. Wren grins slightly at this because she doesn't know what to do now either. She doesn't respond, and instead looks over the bodies, the sun that is still rising and the sky that is turning lighter, the boy because he is a boy, she'd have to say maybe a year or two younger than her age, or a year or two younger than how she looks and his clothes and his face, and just him in general.

She's going to do something, but first she wants to know if he'll agree, because if she just drags him with her he might think she's kidnapping him. He's skinny and his frame is dwarfed by that abnormally large hooded sweater he's wearing, and his jeans are stained with blood and dirt while his sneakers look worse for wear. All in all he resembles her - dirty, homeless and lost.

So Wren nods to herself, and instead of verbally offering him the choice, she holds out her hand, because she knows actions can be warmer and kinder than words. After she wipes the blood and guts off of it of course, 'cause it would be gross to leave that there.

The boy blinks and eyes her hand and herself cautiously, her claws and teeth more intensely, but slowly and hesitantly places his hand in hers. He looks at it awkwardly, like he's unused to physically affection or just being physical with someone else (she snickers at how dirty that could be when taken in context. She's a hobo and has no shame.) and gives her a look like ' _what now?_ ', and she smiles, warmly, kindly and whatever the hell her smile must look. She hides the fear and cowardice behind it though, because she secretly thinks that this was stupid thing to do but she doesn't regret it.

She might be a coward, but she could try protect him and herself. They were a pack now, and she was the Alpha. He didn't necessarily need to know that though.


End file.
